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Tag: landlord

This has been an exciting morning, if by “exciting” you mean “awful.” Following on the heels of yesterday’s bank debacle (I’d suggest you see yesterday’s entry, but – ha! – I didn’t post one. The gist is that I am such a poor credit risk that I cannot possibly have anyone else on my account because we will surely TAKE OVER THE WORLD VIA OVERDRAFT, or something) I woke up with a horrible headache and half an hour until the landlord walkthrough. I fed the kid, got sort of dressed (sweats are totally clothes, yo), tossed another load of laundry in, gathered up all the rest of the dirty clothes and hid put them in an unobtrusive pile, moved all the unfolded clean laundry into the closet, closed up all the closets, picked up all the detritus that inexplicably ends up everywhere we are, and went downstairs with roughly 30 seconds until 10 (which was the early end of When The Landlord Might Arrive) followed by two cats who should know better. To find that the kitchen was a mess, the living room weirdly full of boxes which had been almost entirely unpacked but then stacked, carefully, as though the three screws and a single figurine needed a huge box to keep them safe from their enemies, and random toys and things on the floor.

Now, you’re probably asking yourself two things: 1) why did I not deal with this last night? and 2) why am I noticing all the things that aren’t done instead of all the things that are? The answer is simple: I suck. Or, wait, maybe it has something to do with the fact that Ellison had his six month shots yesterday and spent last night wailing and clinging and generally refusing to let me do anything that did not involve snuggling him and nursing, a lot. And since I had such a good time with the bank letting me know I’m a bad credit risk, I wanted to avoid a similar situation with the landlord (i.e. him coming in and seeing how horribly disorganized our house is and reneging on our lease, or something). So I’m looking at the house and seeing it through the eyes of someone who dislikes people like me (and possibly also has a splitting headache and needs a cup of coffee), but for the record: Not So, thank you for dealing with the unpacking last night. The hallway looks great, and that was the really important thing. Anyway.

So I’m freaking out, doing the pursed-lip cleaning thing I do when I’m anxious, the cats are yowling and underfoot, the baby is wailing because clearly the Pack ‘N Play is some form of baby torture. So naturally I start yelling, because that will make everything better. Funny thing: shouting at cats? Does not help. Especially when all they want is more food. I did get the momentary mean-spirited satisfaction of them running out of the room (“We’d better go! Mom’s crazy!”), followed by the inevitable guilt of someone who has just bullied her pets. I? I am not a nice person.

Anyway I fed the cats, made some coffee, and emptied out the dishwasher (all to a chorus of wailing baby, yay), to find the third surprise of the morning:

That’s our brand new Snapware, which I tossed in the dishwasher to get rid of the plasticky smell. Turns out that wee little note on the box that says Do Not Put In Dishwasher is actually true. Good to know! Also: FUCK!

The best part of all of this? The landlord didn’t even come in. He and the builder just asked if we had any problems, and when I said we didn’t, they left. Ha!